


Answers

by lethargicshadowlover



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Camaraderie, F/M, Quiz Teams, ShikaTema, ShikaTema Week, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24892858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethargicshadowlover/pseuds/lethargicshadowlover
Summary: Another year, another quiz final for Konoha, but their team captain's mind is on more than just answering general knowledge questions.[Written for ShikaTema Week 2020, Day 1 - Camaraderie]
Relationships: Nara Shikamaru/Temari
Comments: 25
Kudos: 42





	Answers

**Author's Note:**

> this is such a dumb idea, but we're rolling with it. I hope you enjoy!

The uniform was itchy and the collar latched on to his stubble like velcro to a sweater. Shikamaru scratched at his chin halfheartedly, knowing better than to irritate it so early on in the day. After all, he still had hours left trapped in the damned thing—there were hours to be spent under studio lights in a makeshift auditorium, and he could do without being caught with a rash on television, or else he might get another call from his mother badgering him to take better care of himself. Granted, common sense hadn’t always been his forte and he probably ought to have listened, but after three years living alone at university Shikamaru was convinced he knew enough life skills to deal with a rash from a shirt. If he hadn’t died from scurvy or alcohol poisoning yet, chances were he was set, and he was clearly still standing.

Well, sitting; sat on a mound of grass outside some studio he’d become all too familiar with the last few years, lighting up his fifth cigarette of the morning. _This is what my mother should grill me about_ , he grumbled to himself as he tucked the lighter away in his pocket. He knew he should quit, and he would if it didn’t settle his brain so adequately. People often seemed to forget that for one to have an IQ like he did, it came with a number of somewhat irritating side effects. One of those was the inability to shut everything off when it wasn’t important, but his teenage years had opened Shikamaru’s eyes to nicotine, and to easing the stressful whirring of information that slightest bit.

That’s why today of all days, as he waited to answer quick fire questions, Shikamaru wanted desperately for his mind to feel calm. Three years running he had come here, sat in this stupid, itchy uniform, and answered general knowledge questions for the sake of his university’s pride. He could barely even remember how he’d got roped into being part of the team in the first place, much less how he’d ended up being team captain last year. But, as he always did, Shikamaru just went with it, unbothered by the outcome in a hope to just get everyone to get off his damn back.

They’d won last year, and they’d won the year before. He thought that would’ve been enough for Ino, who’d dragged him on the team in the first place, but she was still itching for another win. Honestly, Shikamaru wished she was the captain; that way she would have to do the introduction to the camera, to the host—she did everything there was to do off-camera anyway, it’s not like it would’ve been hard for her.

But, really, when he thought about it, it was obvious why he held the position he did. With a mind and memory like his, it only made sense for decisions to fall to him, and him being team captain had, at least last year, won Konoha the title.

Though he didn’t understand the need for glory, he could at least logically see why both Ino and Choji had stood by their decision for him to front the team.

Still, it wasn’t half troublesome.

Shikamaru took a long drag as he kicked at a dandelion, the seeds flying everywhere. “One more an it’s all over,” he muttered to himself. “Teamwork, Nara. You can do teamwork easy.”

But it wasn’t easy at all; not when they were up against Suna like they were last year. He’d never seen a team so well-suited to one another as those three, and their reflexes were sharper than Shikamaru’s probably ever could be. The day he’d discovered they were siblings, he hadn’t even batted an eyelid—it all just suddenly made sense. They had that brutal and artsy one with the make-up, ‘war paint’ Shikamaru had heard him call it once, and the deadly silent one with the red hair whose deep voice didn’t even begin to match his bright eyes—those two alone were a force to be reckoned with, but they had nothing on her.

He had been almost certain they would lose that day Konoha had come up against them last year, and it was all down to that woman. She was so well rounded in her knowledge, and so sure of herself in all of her exclamations, that she seemed to control the entire operation on her own, manipulating it to her own advantage somehow. The woman was unstoppable in every sense of the word.

Except Konoha hadn’t lost, and that was down to her.

While it made him chuckle to think of the spectacular failure that had been her performance last year, he couldn’t help feeling awash with pity. He’d seen the look in her eyes as they walked out, that impossibly angry glint that just screamed out to him. As much as he didn’t understand her anguish, he couldn’t help feeling he’d deprived her of something she desperately wanted—no, more than that; something she _deserved_.

All along he’d wanted nothing more than to leave, and he felt no gratification for having won. So as they’d waited at the taxi rank later that afternoon and he’d spotted her, he’d been unable to stop himself walking up to her, ready to apologise for having torn away from her something that had seemingly mattered. But, before he was even able to open his mouth, she’d scowled at him and barged his shoulder as she pushed past. “If you’ve come to gloat, Nara, you can go fuck yourself,” she had spat under her breath, and his heart sank instantly at the way she’d, not only known, but his name so bitterly.

In the moment she walked away he felt something shift inside his mind; a lack of understanding so destructive he barely knew how to function. His teammates had bundled him a taxi cab with his eyes still focused on those blonde ponytails, trying as hard as he could to catch her eye again and understand why she cared so much about something so fucking pointless as this. However, no such revelation had clicked, and Shikamaru had spent the best part of the last year wondering what he’d say to her if they came face to face again.

He’d tried to reason with himself that she wouldn’t return—after all, who would actively return after embarrassingly themselves in such a way on television? It seemed cruel to even think about, and Shikamaru knew if the shoe was on the other foot he’d never want to set foot near even a pub-quiz again.

Still, something in him _knew_ she’d be back, and that’s why his brain couldn’t buzzing with the millions of reasons for what might happen. If it mattered to her this much, she wouldn’t be able to stay away—he was sure of that—and though he barely knew her, Shikamaru was sure she wouldn’t be one to give up.

Such notions only played further on his mind until he stopped thinking of the competition and resorted to thinking exclusively of her; her smart dress, the obscure shade of her eyes, the sharp and mischievous tone with which she shot back answers. He couldn’t stop imagining her face, and what those snarling lips he’d seen might look like curved up into a smile. Shikamaru realise, for his own peace of mind, if he did see her again he had to ask her questions, and he had to see if she could smile.

Despite his intellect and despite the time frame, his many hours spent awake at night were fruitless. With each new round he’d spent every minute thinking about whether the team would face Suna, and imagined looking into those gorgeously ruthless eyes asking why and how in so many different ways. Yet now here he was; less than an hour from the starting buzzer and he’d thought of nothing at all.

“Useless,” he scolded under his breath, tapping away the ash of his cigarette as he tried to ground himself in the present once more. “You’re fucking useless.”

“Yes, you are.”

He froze. _Oh, God. Not yet_.

“So, you’re on the Konoha team _again_.”

Shikamaru looked up only to be met by a vicious scowl. “I knew it,” he scoffed, hating himself for the way his tone narrowed her teal eyes further. “You came back.”

“Of course I came back—I’m Suna’s _captain_!” She sounded proud as she stepped around him, too proud to be genuine, and Shikamaru felt his lips purse tightly.

He shrugged, raising his arms defensively. “I’m sorry but _I_ wouldn’t have come back,” he reasoned. Her eyes flashed a most dangerous, fiery glare, and Shikamaru realised instantly that she thought he was playing with her. Whilst he desperately wanted to insist his intentions were merely an attempt to be honest and kind, with every step she took around him and every inch further back he craned his neck, Shikamaru could see that plan working out less and less. Instead, he chose what he assumed was the path of least resistance—the easiest route for him to take.

Forcing a smile, Shikamaru brought his cigarette to his lips. “Remind me of your name?”

She scoffed, raising her eyebrows as she folded her arms tightly beneath her chest.

“Come on, woman.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Temari,” she growled.

“Surname?”

“You don’t deserve it.”

“Well, _Temari_ ,” he chuckled, his smile becoming ever more real the more he saw her features contort, “after the mess you made last year I wondered if they might’ve sacked you.”

“I’m not a quitter.”

“Never said you were—you couldn’t seem any further from a quitter if you tried.”

Temari smirked, kicking at the grass. “Unlike yourself.”

“Touché,” nodded Shikamaru. “Anyway, clearly you’re still such an asset to the team that your brothers can live without getting the answers right.”

He could see her snarling, and he could feel himself getting a kick out of it. Never before had he been so spiteful and enjoyed it—he didn’t feel like himself. Except all of a sudden, through her curled up lips, a smirk broke through, and he could see the shift—the sudden amusement as she said, “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Nara.”

God, how he loved the way his name fell from her tongue in a drawl. “Could you remind me, Temari: what is the oldest country in the world?”

He could see her squirm at the memory, but somehow that didn’t stop Temari squinting dramatically as her jaw clenched. “San Marino,” she spat.

The cigarette poised between his lips, and an obnoxious glint in his eye, Shikamaru smirked at her. “Funny you say that,” he chuckled. “I could’ve sworn you said Jerusalem last time that question was asked.”

“You’re not funny.”

“I know.” Shikamaru tapped away the ash and lay back on the grass, staring up at her. “But I thought it would be a good idea for you to check if you remembered that Jerusalem isn’t even a country, love.”

Temari snorted. “Ah, so you’re ‘ _helping_ ’ me?”

“You could say so, yeah,” he told her, his snarky expression softening with every word. “Although, I’m sure you know more than my whole team do combined.”

Carefully she sat down a metre or so in front of him, and Shikamaru propped himself up on one elbow to secure a better look at him. Her eyebrows raised from their frown in surprise. “After three years on that team you still have no sense of camaraderie, do you?”

“And by that you mean?”

“You have no faith in your team-mates.”

“Oh, I have faith. I just know you’re a forced to be reckoned with.” Shikamaru smiled and took a drag, locking eyes with her. It was unnerving to see the way she looked at him with something so close to a genuine smile on her face, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t cherishing every moment of it. Nervously, he tugged the collar of his itchy uniform away from his neck and let out a great sigh, prompting her brows to furrow once more when.

“What?”

Shikamaru shrugged. “You deserved to win last year.”

Temari shook her head.

“You did.”

“I thought Jerusalem was a country, and I didn’t even know the answer, Nara,” she mumbled, picking at the daisies amongst the green. “I did not ‘deserve to win’ at all.”

“No,” he chuckled, “I don’t believe it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe for one second you _didn’t_ know the answer.”

Temari’s eyebrows bunched together tighter, and she crawled a little closer, coming up beside him. “Why?”

Without hesitation, Shikamaru broke into a grin, laughing as he shook his head. “Because you’re a fucking powerhouse, that’s why. You’re terrifying, woman.”

And then it happened—a smile spread across her face as he’d hoped to see for months, and it was everything he’d hoped for. The corners of her eyes crinkled up, her top lip twitching with the tension, and she nodded slowly. A small laugh escaped her throat, too, as she examined another daisy between her fingertips, and for a moment she looked delicate. Shikamaru could barely wrap his head around the idea that a woman he’d only seen stoic and snarky at best could harbour such a softness, not to mention that such softness could be brought about by such a strange compliment. However, it had been so true: he was terrified of her. She had caused him so much trouble ever since he’d first met her without even realising, occupying his mind every minute of every day, and interfered with his life forever with a single glare.

“I don’t set out to be,” she giggled, “but I’m glad to hear it.”

Shikamaru wanted so desperately to ignore every nagging voice in his mind that urged him to question her, begging for answers as to why it had mattered so much. He wanted to keep quiet—just sit and enjoy this moment with this stunning woman—before they went back to being enemies and yelled countries, composers, and cattle breeds back and forth for the rest of the day. This moment was calm, serene, and with the wind floating through her blonde hair she looked untouchable—hell, she _was_.

But not knowing and not understand, as it always had, plagued Shikamaru too desperately for him to keep his mouth shut.

“Last year,” he said tentatively, pausing when he saw her eyes flicker away, “why _were_ you so upset?”

Temari’s lips parted, her eyes blinking rapidly as though she was processing what he’d asked her. He knew then, for certain, that he had ruined the moment, couldn’t help wondering if what he’d asked was really that impossible to answer. _Or was it really that stupid a question?_ he considered. Maybe he was so out of touch in his misfit genius brain that it was him that seemed the strange one.

Instantly, a wave of anxiety crept up his spine, and a shiver ran across his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It wasn’t that I was embarrassed, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The calmness of her voice was unnerving, and the sombre undertone ripped through Shikamaru like a freezing gust of wind. His eyes shot open to see her staring straight behind him, eyes clearly fixated on the building they’d be entering in little to no time at all, and he swore he could see them glaze over.

Temari tore the head from another daisy and ran her fingertip gently across the petals. Shikamaru wished he could reach out, halt her nervous fiddling, and it not be weird, but he knew better than to keep on being ridiculous. He’d already upset this woman once before—maybe twice, now— and couldn’t forget, as he’d mentioned, that she was scary.

“Maybe it should’ve been embarrassment, but I don’t really get embarrassed by much,” continued Temari. She chewed on her lips as they curled into a subtle smirk, one she clearly didn’t want him to see. “Well, until now. You’ve managed to get me there.”

Shikamaru frowned. “I’ve embarrassed you?”

“Reminding me of last year and then being so nice about it? Yeah, of course you have.” She chuckled. “It made me embarrassed for being such a bitch when you tried to talk to me back then.”

“You weren’t a bitch.”

“I told you to go fuck yourself.”

He snorted, smiling as he shrugged. “In your defence, I shouldn’t have tried to talk to you at all; I should’ve let you be.”

“Then why did you?” she sighed. “I assumed you were going to take the piss, but I—”

“I just wanted to understand.”

Temari’s eyes shifted. “Understand what?”

“How some dumb university quiz competition could matter so much to you.”

“You mean, it doesn’t matter to you?” she scoffed. “But you’re Shikamaru Nara! You’ve won this thing three years running and you’re telling me it doesn’t even matter to you?”

He felt guiltier than he ever had before, but all he knew to do was shrug and give a simple nod.

“Unbelievable.” Temari didn’t sound angry, just utterly gobsmacked. “No wonder you have no sense of team spirit.”

“I’m the captain,” he insisted. “I show up, I answer the questions—I win!”

“That doesn’t mean you get it, Nara!”

And there it was again: that frustratingly captivating voice with which she hissed his name, but this time it filled him with a sadness unlike what he’d ever felt before. He sat up and looked into her eyes, trying his best to disregard the resentment now present in them and remember what they had looked like soft and kind.

“Shikamaru,” he corrected feebly. “Please.”

She ignored him. “We’re not friends, Nara. I don’t _want_ us to be friends—nobody needs that. Nobody’s on the same side here— _we_ aren’t on the same side!”

“Why do there even need to be sides in the first place? I don’t understand—it’s just some stupid quiz.”

“But it isn’t!”

The way her breath had quickened to combat her anger, and the way her face had crinkled into the expression he remembered the best, forced Shikamaru’s shoulders to slump. It finally clicked in his mind, then and there, that maybe he was the weird one. After all, Ino and Choji cared—they wanted to win as badly as this woman did, didn’t they?

No, there was something different about the way she behaved to those two. Team spirit had always been at the core of Ino and Choji’s pep talks, and Shikamaru did enjoy being part of a team with them without a doubt, but he was starting to believe it was different for Temari. Talking about sides didn’t feel right to him, and the way she’d said it hadn’t been entirely convincing, either. It was as though she didn’t believe she had one herself at all, and he had to admit he felt the same.

“Temari,” he tried softly, “why do you want so badly to win?”

Silence.

Nervously, Shikamaru reached for the daisy between her fingertips and let out an Almighty sigh of relief when she didn’t flinch away. Her grip tightened, but she let him rest his palm there, and he couldn’t help feeling like talking to her was far beyond his usual abilities for communication. One wrong word and she could tear off his hand, no question about it.

Still, he smiled a most delicate smile, and squeezed her hand slightly. “You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone else to know you’re the best.”

Something flashed behind her eyes—a recognition of sorts. _Tread carefully, idiot_ , he told himself.

“And even if you did, you showed everyone that last year.” He could see her lips part to speak but he continued too quickly. “Forget the last question—you smashed that competition. You were _about_ to beat me.”

“But _you_ beat _me_ ,” she sighed, resigned. “You won.”

Shikamaru chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t.”

Temari bit down on her lip. “If you say some sappy shit about camaraderie and how I’m better at it, I will punch you.”

“Well,” he smirked, “you _have_ taken it upon yourself to repeatedly remind me of how shit my team spirit is, you—”

She didn’t let him finish, tearing her hand from his and shutting him up instantly, but not with her fist as he expected. He squeezed shut his eyes, bracing himself for the impact of her knuckle on his jaw, but instead felt arms wrap around his neck and her lips press against his own. Suddenly it didn’t matter that his itchy collar was tight against his neck, only that her arms were what pressed it closer, and he couldn’t wait to re-do his ponytail in the knowledge that she’d been what had ruined it, pulling at his hair. Shikamaru grinned against her lips and he let himself kiss back, amazed at how these ridiculous events had unfolded and how quickly her emotions had shifted. Not that he cared at all.

“If you let me win,” he whispered as she began to pull away slowly, “I _will_ kill you.”

“Vice versa.”

“I wouldn’t da—ow! Fuck!”

His hand flew to his bottom lip, now bleeding from the ferocity with which she had bitten it, and he couldn’t help but laughing as he wiped it away.

“You troublesome woman,” he groaned, watching her turn away and grab another flower as if nothing had even happened. “The fuck did you do that for?”

Temari shrugged and reached out her hand to help him up, which he accepted hesitantly. She breathed out a chuckle and stamped out the cigarette he’d left dying in the grass. “Just to remind you, and everyone else, that I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Oh, I already knew that.”

“I know."

Shikamaru almost felt weird for the way he was staring at her, and he could feel himself mirroring the grin when she finally looked him in the eye again. How serene she looked picking at those, after the hectic nature of their encounter, stopped him dead. “Shit,” he whispered, “you want the others to think you punched me, don’t you?”

She bit down on her own lip, her refusal to answer as telling as any word could’ve been. “Really though,” she said, “if you let me win, this won’t be the last time I make you bleed.”

“Don’t worry; I heard you the first time.”

Her smile didn’t falter as she walked away, her sandy-coloured uniform clinging to her figure, and Shikamaru couldn’t help but grin. Had he got the answers he wanted? Not even nearly, but he’d got her to talk and he’d got her to smile—that was enough for a first attempt. But for now, he had to get in there, face her again, and win. He’d never been more excited or motivated for anything in his life.

But first he had to stop this damn lip from bleeding.

* * *

With the buzzer’s sound drilling deep behind his eyes, Shikamaru rested his chin on his palm. He could see the way her narrow eyes lit up as she went to answer yet another ridiculous question, and for some reason felt a proud smile creep onto his lips.

“Correct!” the announcer bellowed. He flicked the card in his hand to the back of its pack, clearing his throat as he went, and leant forward menacingly. His elbows settled on the desk before him as he neatened up the pack of question-cards with a couple of jarring taps against the wood.

Shikamaru noticed instantly he was the only contestant not to mirror him. The young mansat back calmly, crossing his arms across his chest, and took in a single deep breath. He didn’t need to look at the old git to know what he was about to say—one question remained and both teams were neck and neck. _A perfect repeat of last year_ , he noted.

That also, thankfully, meant it was almost over. With a flick of his wrist and a couple of words, he’d be free to leave and his teammates could fawn over the prize they so desperately wanted to hold onto. Shikamaru couldn’t wait to be rid of the sticky feeling of sitting under studio lights, or escape the awkward false enthusiasm radiating from the man all eyes currently sat on, but he had to admit that dragging himself out would be difficult with her acting as she was.

He watched her brows furrow as she listened intently to the same old instructions he knew she’d heard a thousand times and drew his thumb up to his lip, gently brushing across the swollen patch. For a moment he swore she caught him looking, seeing her subtle smirk brushed away only by a nudge from her teammate. Shikamaru winced, feeling a trickle of wet on his lower lip as he snagged the wound with his nail.

“Stop touching it, Shikamaru,” hissed Ino from beside him, discreetly passes a handkerchief beneath the desk, her toe colliding with his shin for good measure.

The announcer turned toward him and cocked his head to one side in a most patronising manner. “So, Konoha,” he said calmly, before twisting to face the other team, “and Suna.” Once again he rattled the cards against the desk, provoking another groan from Shikamaru and, again, a kick in the shin. “The final question is for your captains only.”

A sigh escaped Shikamaru as he dabbed at his lip and shoot an ungrateful look toward his whit-blonde team-mate. _Oh, get on with it_ , he complained inwardly, and his eyes drifted across the room to his his opponent. She was definitely smiling now, no doubt about it—a devilish sight unlike anything he’d seen—and he decided then and there that hers, without a doubt, was the most irritating face he might ever have to look at.

Nonetheless, he could look at it forever.

He’d see to it that he would.

“Fingers on buzzers, captains.”

Shikamaru’s palm reluctantly captured the buzzer. From across the room hreatening, but unable to hold any distinguishable malicious intent, her eyes burrowed into him as he took a deep breath. A shudder flew across his shoulders. This was the one moment that was entirely up to him, where his actions spoke for the entire team—he could understand now why maybe that had made her nervous last time.

The man cleared his throat and his yes shot down to the card. “What term is used to refer to the combination of an exclamation mark and a qu—”

His hand smacked down on the buzzer with their eyes still locked on one another, and instantly he could see the frustration bubbling up inside her. Hers was pressed down, too, flush against the desk, but he had thoroughly beaten her this time on reflexes alone. Clearly she was annoyed—a fact that quite honestly made a smile creep across Shikamaru’s face, and he felt his lip twinge as he snapped back into the present.

Then it hit him—he had the perfect way to force her to talk to him afterwards, and rile her up with passionate exasperation with him. _Nobody’s on the same side_ , she had told him, except he could easily be on _her_ side, if he chose to be. All he had to do was let himself be wrong.

“Oh,” he mumbled just loud enough, feigning confusion as he eyed Temari up across the room, “I’m not sure I know.”

“Mr Nara?”

“Yes?”

“Your answer, please.”

Shikamaru shrugged and sat back, a playfully false bewilderment in his eyes. “I’m not sure,” he lied again, “but I’ll go for…” He could see the way her brows were knitting closer together, a curse word silently mouthed by her lips, and he had to hold back a triumphant grin as he tentatively said, “ _Jerusalem_?”


End file.
